Chromed- Rogue

by Richard Parry

Mike joined them, mop and all. “Kid, did you rip out someone’s link architecture? And then take this to Sadie rather than me?”

  “Yes, Mike.” Zacharies looked confused as he glanced between them. “She’s in charge.”

  Mike said something that sounded like sonofabitch as he took his mop away. Sadie peered at the bloody uplink. “Where did you get this?”

  “From a man trying to kill me.” The kid shrugged. “The link made him do it. I can see it.”

  “I can see you need a drink. Help yourself,” said Sadie. “I’m off to meet Doctor Frankenstein.”

  “Do you need any help?” She could see the need in his eyes which, at his age, could turn to a powerful level of violence.

  Sadie flicked ash to the floor. “No. I’ve got this one.” She nodded to Mike. “Floor needs cleaning.”

  “Clean it yourself.”

  “You’re the man with the mop.” Sadie sauntered from behind the bar. She checked her sidearm was at her side, hand on the butt of the pistol, then headed to the rear of Afterlife. To where the monster lived.

  The engine room of Afterlife used to be for storage. Racks that held the heady weight of beer casks now housed servers, thousands of lights blinking in the gloom. Smoke swirled through the air, sluggish despite the air conditioning. Sadie closed the door behind her, the security seal hissing shut.

  The fat black man glared hate at her.

  Sadie ignored him for a moment, turning to the woman seated on a couch. The couch was old and comfortable like most of the things at Afterlife. The woman looked too young for the rifle she carried. “How you doing, Sam?”

  “I hate babysitting.” Sam’s clinic-bought features made boredom look fashionable.

  “I hear you.” Sadie straightened her shoulders. “Heimo, how’s progress?”

  “You’ll die for this.” Heimo sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat despite his words. His sweat-stained shirt looked like he’d found it dumpster-diving, a far cry from the top-shelf attire he was used to. “You’ve heard the expression, ‘have a tiger by the tail?’”

  Sadie gave Heimo a once-over. He was still fat, but months inside working under duress leaned him down a kilo or two. “You’re no tiger.”

  “Apsel is a dragon.” Heimo tried on a leer, couldn’t get it to stick, so let it drop. “They’re coming for me.”

  “They’re in a death-spiral.” Sam hid a little glee in the words. She was Metatech right to the core, and worked as Mike’s handler before they’d taken their leave. “Their stock is being used to light fire barrels in the slums. They’re one step away from Reed’s crumble after the incident in Amsterdam.”

  Heimo shook his head. “They’ve destroyed a city before.” He meant Richland, lost and forgotten.

  “Motherfuckers,” agreed Sadie. “I’m not here to talk about whether I’m pissing people off. I always piss people off. It’s my superpower. I’m here, Heimo, to find out whether we need to have another discussion about your performance.”

  He blanched. “No.”

  “Then it’s done?”

  “It’s almost done.” At the expression on Sadie’s face, something she felt was close to white-lipped rage, Heimo held up his hands. “I have the quantum frame ready. Its code—”

  “Her code.”

  “Her code is installed. The baseline cortex fabric took the code.”

  “The what the what?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t read the memo?”

  Sadie glanced at Sam. “Is he speaking English?”

  “He said Carter’s code is fine, and the computer is working.” Sam pointed her rifle at the floor, looking down the scope. She sounded distracted, like this wasn’t worth all her cycles to care about. “To be honest I’m waiting for the punchline.”

  Sadie looked around the room of servers. “What’s the punchline, Heimo?”

  “It’s not my fault.”

  “Let’s pretend that’s true. What’s wrong?”

  “All this,” Heimo waved a flabby arm at the racks, “is not the hardware it was—”

  “She.”

  Heimo gave a small growl. “It’s not the hardware she was designed for.”

  Sadie glanced to Sam. Sam sighed. “He means it’s like trying to make wine with a still.”

  “Okay.” Sadie frowned. “You knew this already.”

  “You can’t backup a soul.” Heimo glanced at the racks. “It … she won’t come back.”

  “You let me worry about that,” said Sadie.

  “I just need a little more time.” Heimo glanced to Sam, maybe hoping for an assist, but the Metatech handler wasn’t throwing him a lifeline. Sam hadn’t known Carter, but she trusted Mike Takahashi.

  Whatever works. Sadie put her hand on the butt of the Metatech pistol. “How much time?”

  “Days. Maybe weeks.”

  Sadie showed her teeth. “What if I said three days?”

  “I’d say I’d need more time.”

  “Great. You’ve got two days.”

  “Two days?” Heimo looked around the same way animals did when cornered. “That’s impossible.”

  “Your wife stopped writing.” Sadie leaned against the door. She hated doing this. It wasn’t part of the music. Might be why the strings won’t sing for you anymore. “Your account hasn’t seen any messages for a week.”

  Heimo blinked. “She … what?”

  Sam put on a sing-song voice. “‘Dear Heimo, you left me. I’m taking everything.’” She shouldered the rifle. “Sound familiar?”

  “She wouldn’t.”

  “She wouldn’t wait forever.” Sadie shrugged. “She’s young and pretty. And she’s got access to your accounts. She filed papers.” Sadie kept her eyes down. She feared looking at Heimo’s face would break her resolve. “She thinks you’re dead.”

  “You’ve got to let me talk to her.”

  “No problem.” Sadie looked up. “In two days.”

  “Fuck!” Heimo rushed her, his bulk shoving aside a table with a clatter of components. The tick-tick-tick of a taser sounded, Sam already on her feet. Heimo dropped to the floor with an ooomph of expelled air, groaning.

  Sadie crouched next to him. “Heimo, bring my friend back to life.”

  “Or what?” he croaked. Sadie spent enough time around drunks to speak the language of slur like a native.

  “You’re a smart guy.” She nodded to Sam, then palmed the door, the biometric locks yielding to her touch. The corridor outside welcomed her with its scrawled graffiti and cracked plaster. She leaned against the opposite wall, dragging in lungfuls of clean air.

  It wasn’t the smoke or being with Heimo. She felt toxic because of what she did. All to get a dead woman’s pulse beating again.

  Sadie stood, smoothing her shirt. She’d do it for me.

  Why not treat yourself to Chromed: Restore today?

  [https://www.books2read.com/ChromedRestore]